Erotic Adventures of an Erotica Writer
Crystal Fields is an erotica writer with some confessions to make. How does she make her stories so vivid and real? Research! Such as: undercover at a high school to seduce a swim coach; the world of video peep booths disguised as a man; the only woman on a merchant marine ship; and more! Crystal is an aficionado of unusual and precarious positions, and she shares her adventures here. More
I remember a particular therapy session when I had come straight from the gym. I was wearing a sports bra and black Capri-style athletic pants. I love those pants—they’re stretchy and form fitting and end just above my calves. When I sat down on the Crazy Couch—Doctor Pherligan hated it when I called it that—I always took my shoes off. Doctor Pherligan assured me that was unnecessary, but my mother had always drummed it into me: no shoes on the furniture.
I have this quirk about ankle socks. I love them when I’m wearing sneakers, but I feel like a dork wearing them without sneakers. So, anyway, I took them off too. My feet like to breathe.
Doctor Pherligan…did I describe him yet? I’m not sure I have. He was mostly thin, with a slight paunch pressing against the bottom of his vest. That paunch was crying out for a squeeze! His hair was straight and neat, deep gray approaching white, and he still had all of it. He reminded me of a short George Plimpton, the dearly departed editor of The Paris Review. I always found George amazingly sexy. Smart and dignified kicks butt.
Anyway, Doctor Pherligan was probing my reaction to viewing internet porn. He asked me to recall my last session cruising porn, which I did. My favorite method was to put on headphones and watch clip after clip for hours. I’m not sure if I liked the headphones because they focused my attention or because I could be sure no one could hear what I’m hearing. Doctor Pherligan said this indicated I had some sense of shame over what I was engaged in. Perhaps. I think it says out that I am sensible.
As I lay on the couch, I described a particular night when I lost myself in videos. I told the good Doctor I preferred the rough ones, and described some in detail.
Doctor Pherligan kept shifting in his seat, crossing and re-crossing his legs. He was sitting behind me, but I could see it out of the corner of my eye. The dashing Doctor cleared his throat and said, “You are…well…I’m not sure if you are aware of it, but you are caressing your breast and your…lower area.”
I looked down. Ooh, I was. “Sorry, I was lost in the moment.”
“Don’t apologize,” Doctor Pherligan said. “This is good. It gives me excellent insights.” He looked at his watch. “Would you mind terribly if we ended a bit early today? I have a pressing matter.”
I swung my bare feet onto the floor. “As long as you don’t charge me for a full session, Doctor Pherligan.”
“Of course,” he said. As I reached for my ankle socks, I noticed one was missing. And the dashing Doctor wasn’t standing up to open the door for me. He always did that! I loved passing close by him and drinking in the sweet aroma of spent pipe smoke lodged in his tweeds.
I had a good idea as to why he wasn’t standing up.